The Uncommon Artist

"You are really in love with him, aren't you?" observed Kristen.

"Oh, yes. What a delight that was. We...uh...we also had to get a move on, because by then we'd created a small commotion and we wanted to get out before we were put out."

"Well, what was the going away gift for you?"

Chapter 3

His Personal Touch

"When we returned, Kirby took me to a storage unit not far from our condo. When he raised the door, there was this gorgeous black Harley Davidson Sturgis. I could not believe it! And yet it was so much like my father to do that. The thing itself reflected his personality, Kristen. He spent the rest of the week teaching me how to ride and handle it."

"And pray tell, how did you say, 'Thank you'?"

"I took him out to dinner that night, and I wore something so risqué that we weren't sure we were going to be allowed into Peter Piper's Restaurant in Marietta. Because he knew the owner, we were escorted to our table, but we both thought it was dicey at first." She laughed at the memory.

"Just what did you have on that was so borderline?"

"I wore a skin-tight long sleeve Kelly green top that had no buttons; the neckline went all the way to my tummy, under my boobs, where it ended. The rest circled my waist. I belted a white leather mini-skirt over it, not quite a micro, that barely covered the curves of my bottom. I wore black half-heel leather pumps with black hose that came to mid-thigh and were held up by white garters to accentuate my legs. And, oh, Kristen, did people ever stare. It made me hot, and my father almost jumped me there in public!"

"And did you do your usual thing of making sure to part your legs so that everybody can see that gorgeous pussy fur?"

"Kristen, you know good and well that I do that casually, not trying to get attention. It's more erotic that way, and I've never had anyone be anything but courteous and even complimentary when I dress like that. Yes, I believe there was very little between my legs that wasn't visible sometime that evening."

"So, finally the time came for you to say, 'Goodbye'?"

Parker was uncharacteristically silent and the unmistakable shadow of great sadness swept across her face. "Yes," she said in a low voice. "That night we made love in a wild and sweet way that I remember to this day. The next day I hooked the trailer he had bought as a transporter for the Sturgis to my Jeep, loaded the bike and covered it, kissed him goodbye, and drove away to Atlanta."

Chapter 4

A Death In the Family

She was a hard worker and settled into the difficult classes with her typical determination. Good grades followed as she successfully completed her major in textile engineering with a second major in photography. Parker decided to keep a low profile for the time being and dressed in attractive long-sleeve blouses, shirts, and slacks when she attended class. There was no hiding that chest, however, and she garnered the attention of several young men and women who invited her to fraternity and sorority parties.

These were interesting and fun, but Parker shucked their unwanted attention when she made it clear that dating did not imply getting bedded or playing with her grand sweater babies. She believed that she owed her father every effort to make his money well-spent. She rented a storage space for her Sturgis and its trailer, and rode the big black machine on weekends, touring the backroads of north and central Georgia.

Kirby and his daughter talked at least twice a week on the phone since he now lived in Dallas, Texas. He constantly encouraged her and even urged her to become interested in someone if she really desired that. Her reply was quick and, while graciously expressed, definite: "Kirby, you took over me that night by the pool, and that is a living thing inside me. You are the only man in my life."

The call came unexpectedly just as she finished exams. Kirby did not sound like his usual bright and upbeat self. "Parker, I hate to intrude on your busy schedule, but I need you. The doctor told me that I'm sick, and I really need you."

The news sledgehammered her. How could her father, always a picture of health and vitality, be really ill? Yet, he'd been definite in his description of his illness. "They tell me I've got pancreatic cancer, Parker."

She flew into Dallas-Fort Worth Airport and caught a taxi to Presbyterian Medical Center. Kirby was a shadow of his former self. The cancer had begun as it always does, with no warning. By the time his internal specialist discovered it, the cancer had metastasized, the Gray Ghost infiltrating his body, spreading the kiss of death. Kirby's physicians were kind and took time to discuss with Parker the prognosis. A body cannot survive without the pancreas. And her father's had spread too far into other organs for there to be any hope of recovery. His specialist, an intense and sensitive woman, spent several hours with Parker, finally asking her to remain by his side. He had only hours left.

"Parks," he whispered later that night, "You are all that remains of our family. I have no reason to say, 'Make us proud,' because your mother and I have always treasured you and been proud of you. Find yourself a true love; give yourself to him or her as you have to me. I'll live on with you in memory, Baby, and when you look at that wonderful machine, see me in its toughness, artistic build, and loyal performance. I love you with all my heart."

As she opened her mouth to speak, gripping his hand, he was gone.

Grief hurled itself at her from many quarters, wrenching her emotions, wrapping her in a straitjacket of pain and overwhelming loss, and injecting its serum of surrender in the face of overwhelming odds. The physician gave her a package containing his will and a few other items that her father had on hand to make his daughter's task easier. She riffled through the documents, his durable power of attorney, living will, and a codicil to the primary will that ensured Parker would inherit everything he owned. He had created a trust that ensured she would not have to wait for probate.

Parker, in these final moments with evidence in-hand, realized that he had been more deeply in love with her than she knew.

During the following week, she pulled herself together, conferred with her father's attorney, called a professional contact in Orlando about a job fair, then returned to Atlanta to complete Georgia Tech. She hadn't a clue what her future held beyond that.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Parker didn't mind describing to Kristen these things, and she secretly hoped that their friendship could become a lesbian affair. She had indicated to her father a few times that she enjoyed girls, and he smiled understandingly. But for some reason, after the conversation that night and her lengthy explanation of how she had become who she was, Kristen seemed to back away. She made no explanation, it was just those little things that said, 'Kristen doesn't care anymore.' The relationship became downright frosty, and then one day Parker returned to their apartment to discover that Kristen was gone. Clothing, athletic equipment, the Veloster, everything that indicated she had ever been there.

The death of their contact, especially with no effort to say what was wrong, cut to Parker's heart. Now she was really alone.

Chapter 5

Enter, PRISM Designs

In months to come the trip was a blur of freeways, courteous drivers, awful drivers, three nights of motels, and desperate efforts to get herself together for job interviews. Once in Orlando, she assessed her financial position, concluded that she was in no risk of immediate hardship, and went shopping for clothing that would present her very best when discussing her capabilities to a personnel director.

She passed through two job fairs strongly recommended by her advisor at Tech, with whom she kept in regular contact. Company representatives offered a total of three positions, one in a government organization that was greatly interested in her qualifications in photography. Her book of samples both intrigued and impressed the agency. But after two days of thinking it over, none of the three offers seemed "right" in the way that she wanted. It wasn't the money; something simply did not click.

On the last day of the mid-size fair, Parker ambled into the restaurant of the large arena, only to discover that there wasn't a seat in the place. She was turning away when she nearly bumped into a tall brunette who smiled broadly and said, "It's a zoo, isn't it? Look, I'm alone, taking a lunch break while some of our other people handle the interviews. Would you care to share my table? I'm Lauren Campbell, and I manage PRISM Designs in Palm Beach."

She led Parker to her table, pulled out a chair for her guest, and they sat down. What Parker had anticipated would be a brief lunch salted and peppered with inane niceties and fake expressions of interest turned out to be a near-Olympic session of questions, Parker's detailed responses, Lauren posing various scenarios to test the girl's thinking and life application skills, Parker grilling the older woman on company plans for the future, Lauren describing various projections that amazed Parker with their broad vistas, and on and on. For three hours.

Finally, both women sat back like knights in a jousting match taking a breather before having at each other once more. Lauren stared at her with unabashed bluntness for half a minute without saying anything, then she laughed to break the silence and asked Parker, "You haven't even hinted at any interest in salary and benefits. Why?"

"Because," replied Parker, coming directly back at her interviewer, "I am not nearly as concerned with how much I'll make as I am about three things: One, what is this company doing? You've answered that. Two, what opportunities would I have to contribute professionally to the core mission of PRISM Designs without being micro-managed to death. Because, Lauren, anyone can ride herd on cattle, but not a lot of pros can turn loose a group of highly skilled, strongly convicted men and women, withstand their arguing and even some in-fighting, then call a halt to it without being afraid, and move off into a concerted effort, at this point, everybody walking lock-step like a martial arts tour group. And three, are you determined to do business honestly, cutting no corners? That's the company I want to work with. Nothing less."

Lauren sat back in thought after this verbal volcanic eruption. Finally, she bent forward toward Parker and said, "You are exactly what we are looking for. Parker, with your skills, we can do things that we'd not have attempted before."

"May I go to work for you, then?"

At that moment, Lauren's cellular phone chimed, and she took a call that lasted for at least five minutes. Her face gave no hint of what she heard, nor did she make any reply to the person speaking. Finally, she said, "Thank you, Sydney. That tells me what I need to know."

Turning to the young woman across the table from her, she said, "Better than that. I'd like for you to accompany me back to Palm Beach. I have a position for you, and I want to introduce you around to our staff. I must warn you that what we need at PRISM is an uncommonly gifted technical conceptual artist. You'll understand later.

"In addition to our unusual operation, I believe you are going to discover that we are, ah, quite varied and casual in our attire; that reflects the part of our company that designs and makes sensuous clothing. Personally, I believe in comfort throughout a hard workday, and I try to lead the way. Will that be a problem for you, Parker?"

"Lauren, I am comfortable in anything from the most official and formal attire to the most risqué and suggestive

clothing. I'll take my cues as to how to appear from you and from company policy."

"You and I both are worn out after this week, so here's what I'd like to do tomorrow. I'll ask Regina to drive my car back, and I'd like to ride with you, if that's alright. We can visit on the way, and I warn you, I have high goof-off factor."

"Sounds like a plan to me. Are you sure you don't mind riding in a Jeep Wrangler towing a Harley Davidson? My father dropped in a 1998 V-8 engine that growls somewhat; he also mounted a set of Doug Thorley headers on it. And I bought the 5-speed transmission. It isn't like a touring machine. But it will definitely get moving!"

"Our son helped me become quite familiar with headers, camshaft grinds, and so on. I want you to meet him as soon as you can, Parker. Not a chance in the world would I miss this! And when you can do so, I'd like to see that gorgeous machine you're hauling. "

"Will do. You know, it just occurred to me, Lauren...I am officially homeless. Everything I own, excepting what my father had stored in Dallas for me, I have in the back of my Wrangler and on that transporter."

"May I ask that you not worry about that? Larry and I have what amounts to a carriage house behind our home. You are welcome to live there as long as you want to. Honestly, I'd prefer that you make it your home, period. And your presence there and care of the place will keep it in good condition. Besides, it is fully equipped with a wide screen video system, furniture, a grand bed, a privacy area and right outside we have a pool. Interested?"

For some reason Parker never nailed down, but for which she was grateful afterward, she never felt as if Lauren were coming on too fast or being pushy. She had finally realized that regardless of how her father had reared her to be independent, she was alone, she needed help, and there was nothing wrong with accepting it.

"Lauren, are you sure? After all, you hardly know me."

"I hope you aren't offended, Parker, but while we have been talking and getting ready for the trip tomorrow, I've had my people here checking your background and your record at Georgia Tech. To say that we are impressed is a vast understatement. I am going to have to rely on you for important assessments, decisions and actions. I know what your remarkable father was like, I know about your stellar record at college, and my years of experience have given me a pretty good set of standards by which to measure men and women. My very blunt assessment of you is that you are the sort of person we want around for years to come."

Chapter 6

The Thrill of Simply Being a Guest

Parker and Lauren settled back for the trip from Orlando to Palm Beach, "Where the Tropics Begin." If Parker thought her new employer was going to be a stuffed shirt, she was completely wrong. Lauren kept her in stitches most of the time, and not with aimless wanderings down the halls of verbal drivel. She seemed able to bring laughter from a part of her young driver that had not known laughter in a long time.

It did occur to Parker that in one way Lauren Campbell was every bit a 'stuffed shirt': She had an absolutely gorgeous chest, and whether for relaxation, display, or some other gloriously nefarious reason, she not only wore no brassiere, she unbuttoned her sky blue blouse below her breasts. Parker had an unobstructed view of full, soft and deliciously quivering flesh. And for dessert, she moved often enough so that Parker had only to wait a few minutes for the next sensuous display.

'I wonder if hers are bigger than mine,' thought Parker. Then she immediately jumped on herself, 'Oh, get a life, Parker! You haven't even gotten to Palm Beach yet, and already you are looking at another woman's tits. But, honey, are they worth it!' She snickered to herself.

They turned south at Interstate 95 and eventually pulled into the drive of a sprawling single-story home on a secluded portion of the Inland Waterway. A Toyota Tundra was parked in the drive, prompting Lauren to smile and announce, "Oh, good! Larry's home. I want you two to meet."

Introductions brought a gracious response from her husband, and Parker felt at ease. "Would you like for me to show Parker her carriage house so you can take a breather, Babe, or do you want to do it?" he asked his wife.

"Honey, if you will, I'd appreciate it. I'll be out there in a few minutes."

Larry and Parker took the graveled path around to the rear of the house where she saw a half-Olympic-size, sparkling clear pool, a tennis court, and a lovely small house that was a replica of the larger one. "This, Parker, is not just where you are 'staying'; this is your home," he stated.

"Larry, I hardly know what to say. This is so very attractive. I have no words...," and with that she lapsed into an emotionally loaded silence, tears filling her eyes. Without delay, her host went back to the tall Jeep and unloaded everything, carrying it into her new home. Then he asked thee million dollar question.

"Parker, I know something about cycles. Would you like for me to uncover yours and help you dismount it?"

"Yes," she replied, "that really would help me. If you'll uncover it, I'll check the hitch to be sure it's tight. I had a friend whose trailer popped loose and upended, then the bike broke loose and fell off."

"Ohhh, my...," came his admiring statement. "A 1982 Sturgis. Where, oh, where, Parker, did you get this?"

"My father, Kirby, gave it to me as a reward for a good high school record and for getting into Georgia Tech. And a couple of other reasons," this latter in a voice only she heard. She could hardly tell him that one reason for her father's gift was because of her growth of glossy black body hair. Few understood that. She only hoped that Lauren would accept her.

Finally, the work was done, and Larry hugged her goodbye, then he went inside to kiss his wife. Parker overheard him laughingly say to Lauren, "Babe, kinda give Parker a break or at least a little warning. She probably isn't used to gorgeous creatures like you, or your wonderfully uninhibited appearance!"

"Larry, love of my life, you know with all your heart that I'll be a nice lady, I won't do anything questionable...," and at this Parker heard him hoot with laughter, though she hadn't heard the preceding remark that caused it.

"Lauren, I am perfectly clear about your enjoyment of women, and I'm all right with that. But Parker is new here, and you are a shockingly beautiful woman. You cannot come on strong with her."

"Larry, I know that. I don't have any designs on her."

"Much," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "You forget, Beautiful, that I am your man. I know you." He held her tightly, then tenderly squeezed her breast, kissed her deeply leaving her breathless, and left for work.

Lauren called out to her guest, "Parker, I'm going to get in some serious pool time. Will you join me?"

And here it was. The moment of truth when her new employer saw what she had strategically covered up so far. 'Okay,' she thought. 'No use fooling around. Either she likes me for who I am, or not.'

She undressed, put on a modest swim suit, stepped into a white robe she found folded in her linen closet, and went out into the bright sunshine. Lauren emerged from the kitchen and strode across the pool apron to Parker who was gazing into the clear warm water. She wore a white sun hat and a white bathing suit cut high on her hips. It was when Lauren turned around that Parker received an electric charge. The suit was a T-back and it exposed her wonderfully glorious ass.

'I...am...completely...utterly...dead!' she thought to herself. 'Oh, well, may as well introduce my surprise with a compliment for her.'

"Lauren, you are simply beautiful."

With that, she dropped the robe, exposing her lovely young body and it's covering of black fur. Whatever response she had anticipated from her host, it wasn't what came next.

Lauren stood in complete silence as she gazed at the strikingly sensuous girl before her. Several times she began a sentence only to fall silent. Finally, she walked over to Parker, hugged her tightly, stepped back, and said, "Young lady, you are one of the most gorgeous creations I have ever feasted...I mean...laid my eyes on! Parker, you are like no other woman I have ever seen. I have only one request: will you pleeeeze take off that swimsuit and let me look at wonderful you?"